THE TOYMAKERS
Mitzi sat upon a high stool in the kitchen, nibbling a radish. Her
mother was cooking. In the workshop was Fritz being scolded by his
father.
Mitzi could hear the rumbling voice of the toy maker saying, "How often
must I tell you to keep your hands off that violin in working hours? If
you had not been fiddling today, this never would have happened!"
There was a moment's silence, and then Mitzi again heard the angry
voice: "See! I take the violin away and I hide it! Now you cannot play
it ever again!"
Mitzi jumped down from her stool. She nearly stepped upon Frank, who
leaped into the air with his ears waving. She burst into the workshop.
[Illustration: HIS EYES WERE FULL OF TEARS]
"Father!" she cried. "Wait, please!"
The toy maker was holding the violin in his hands, and there were tears
in Fritz's eyes.
"I asked you to stay out of here, Mitzi," said the toy maker.
"Oh, but, Father," said the little girl, "do not take the violin away.
Let me have it. I'll keep it. I'll never again allow him to play it
while he is working."
But still the toy maker held the violin.
Now he turned once more to Fritz and boomed, "Do you think one makes
toys to be given away to every beggar on the streets? Each time I go
out, something happens. Toys are ruined or given away or stolen! And all
the time you must fiddle, fiddle, fiddle!"
"Yes, yes, Father, you are right," agreed clever Mitzi. "Fritz is a
stupid little donkey! But now it is Mitz who will keep the violin. You
can trust me, Father. Come! Let me have the violin."
She reached up her chubby hands, and slowly a smile spread over the toy
maker's red face. The toy maker had a bristly mustache that made him
look like a fierce walrus. But under all his fierceness he loved his
children.
[Illustration: MR. TOYMAKER]
"Very well," he said. "Mitzi shall keep the violin. But," he shook his
finger at Fritz, "if ever I find you playing upon it again when you
should be working, I shall sell it!"
At these words, Fritz looked as if the toy maker had struck him. The
violin had been sent to Fritz by his mother's brother in Mittenwald, a
town of violin makers. It was the little boy's dearest possession.
When their father had left the room, Fritz said, "Oh, Mitz, you are so
good!"
Mitzi decided that she was hungry again, so she began digging about in
the cupboard.
She said, "You are a stupid little donkey! And I am not good to you. I
am not!"
"Oh, Mitz!" said her brother.
"No, I am never good to you," said Mitzi. She had found a big pickle and
was beginning to gnaw at it. "And never, never will I give you the
violin. Never!"
"Oh, Mitz!" said Fritz again.
"Never!" repeated Mitzi. Then she added with a smile, "Unless there is
no work to be done!"
Fritz laughed.
"Come! Eat a pickle," said Mitzi.
They sat together, very happy, eating pickles. Ever since Mitzi had been
a small child, she had been up to tricks and full of fun. And always,
always had she been hungry!
That night when the children were in bed the toy maker and his wife
talked late into the night. The toy maker was worried. He was not
selling his toys. Soon there would not be money enough in the house with
which to buy food. He was telling his wife that they were very poor.
[Illustration: EATING PICKLES]
"I am tired of this life, anyway," said the toy maker. "I want to go
away from Nuremberg. Here people buy only modern toys that are made by
machines. In big towns people do not like the old-fashioned handmade
toys."
[Illustration: A TOY SHOP IN NUREMBERG]
"Where would we go?" asked his wife.
The toy maker replied, "We can wander from place to place. When towns
are having fairs, all the country people come to buy. We can go from one
fair to the other, selling our toys in the market squares."
"But how would we travel?" asked Mrs. Toymaker.
"Ah!" Her husband raised his finger mysteriously. "I have a secret."
Now, for a long time Mr. Toymaker had been thinking of a wandering life.
He was clever with his hands and had been making a wagon, which he
planned to use as a home for his family and himself on their wanderings.
He told his wife about it now.
"We shall travel through Germany like gypsies," he said. "There is a
saying that if you cut a gypsy in ten pieces you have not killed him.
You have only made ten gypsies. Theirs is a healthful life."
Mrs. Toymaker thought the plan a good one. She usually agreed with her
husband. In fact, there was only one question over which the toy maker
and his wife really disagreed. That was the question of Fritz and his
violin. Mrs. Toymaker thought it beautiful for people to make music. Mr.
Toymaker did not. He thought it a waste of time.
[Illustration: MRS. TOYMAKER]
He said, "One cannot touch tunes nor eat them nor play with them as one
can with toys. No, Fritz shall make good, solid toys as I do, not
silly, flimsy tunes, which nobody will pay to hear."
But still Mrs. Toymaker did not agree. She believed that sometimes
people will pay for things, even if they cannot touch them. It was Mrs.
Toymaker who had given Mitz and Fritz their books about German
musicians.
It was Mrs. Toymaker who had said, "In our Germany some of the world's
greatest composers of music were born. Many of them played cleverly when
they were little boys. Perhaps--who knows?--my Fritz may grow to be a
great musician."
But she did not say this to the stubborn toy maker.
[Illustration: CHURCH OF OUR LADY--NUREMBERG]